


Another Country Heard From

by akikotree



Series: San Francisco Dance AU [8]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, RPF, San Francisco Bay Area, real person fic, san francisco dance au, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3980035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akikotree/pseuds/akikotree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam was lying on his side in the tiny bed in Zayn's room, still half wrapped in sleep, when he felt Zayn turn over. He would've happily slept for another couple of hours- his long conversation with Louis and the nerve-wracking confession of the night before had kept him up until past four in the morning. But the sudden feel of Zayn's cheek nuzzled against his shoulder blade snapped Liam's eyes open at once. The light in the little room had been even and gray the first time he'd stumbled up to use the restroom, probably hours ago. Now a wash of pale sunlight illuminated the standing clothes rack and the piles of comics on the floor. </p><p>This story takes place directly after part 2 of the San Francisco Dance au series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Country Heard From

Liam was lying on his side in the tiny bed in Zayn's room, still half wrapped in sleep, when he felt Zayn turn over. He would've happily slept for another couple of hours- his long conversation with Louis and the nerve-wracking confession of the night before had kept him up until past four in the morning. But the sudden feel of Zayn's cheek nuzzled against his shoulder blade snapped Liam's eyes open at once. The light in the little room had been even and gray the first time he'd stumbled up to use the restroom, probably hours ago. Now a wash of pale sunlight illuminated the standing clothes rack and the piles of comics on the floor. 

“Heeey,” Zayn's voice was muzzy and soft. “You're so warm.” He pressed his nose to the back of Liam's neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Liam shifted a little, but there wasn't anywhere to go. 

“Your bed's really small,” said Liam. 

“Wasn't really planning on having people over, unlike Harry...” Zayn said vaguely. “Let him take the queen so I could have the desk...” 

That reminded Liam of something. The sight he'd seen sneaking back from the bathroom- Harry and Louis on the fold out couch. Not touching. Not even facing each other. Curled away like two opposing commas. But in the same _room._ On the same _bed._ They'd barely been able to manage a neutral eye contact over dinner, so that was a pretty big development. 

“Harry'd taken my sleeping bag in the living room this morning,” Liam said thoughtfully. “Next to Louis.” 

“Hmm,” said Zayn. “S'interesting.” But he sounded like he had other things on his mind. He was snuggled in against Liam's back in a way that made Liam pleasantly tingly but also kind of afraid to move. One of Zayn's hands crept over Liam's side and he pushed up the bottom of Liam's t-shirt just a little. Liam's entire focus shifted to a narrow stripe of skin across his belly. Everything else in the apartment erased from his mind completely. Zayn ran his fingers down tracing the waist band of Liam's pajama pants. 

“Warmmm,” he murmured. 

“Um,” said Liam. Several logical responses presented themselves to his mind- (“Well yeah, I've been sleeping in this distinctly small bed next to you all night”; “I'm a warm person, generally”; “I'm wearing flannel pajama pants and all you have on is a t-shirt and boxers”) but none of these made it to his mouth, because Zayn was now petting the trail of hair below Liam's belly button. His hand drifted lower- eased the barest amount below Liam's waist band. A centimeter. Two centimeters. Liam held perfectly still. He couldn't see Zayn's face, but he imagined that Zayn's eyes were closed- his lips parted just a little. Zayn's fingers moved with a kind of delicate curiosity- slipped farther into his pants- stirred the hair above the elastic of Liam's briefs. Liam let out a long breath and felt his toes curl back against Zayn's shins. 

“Hmm,” Zayn let out a little pleased hum, and Liam could hear the smile in it. He shifted a bit and suddenly Liam could feel Zayn pressed full length against his back- Zayn's hips pressed into the back of his thighs. Zayn's half hard dick pressed against his thighs. This was all- this was all going very very quickly. 

“Zayn, umm...” Liam started. 

“Hmm?” said Zayn, this time as a question. He pulled his hand back a little so that he could ghost his fingers across the soft fabric over Liam's bulge. His touch sent heat rushing through Liam's body- half of it going to his cock and the other half burning in his cheeks. 

“Wait-” said Liam, a little breathless. “Zayn, wait-” 

Zayn pulled his hand out Liam's pants- which was actually a bit unfortunate because Liam didn't want to discourage that- but he did want to be able to look Zayn in the eye for at least a minute here. Figure out where this was going. Zayn had shifted away a little and Liam turned on his back so he could see Zayn at last. God, he was a sight. Even with vague shadows under his eyes, scruffy and unshaven, he was still stupidly good looking. It wasn't usually the first thing Liam noticed about Zayn anymore, and it certainly wasn't the main reason he'd come into Zayn's room last night with his heart in his throat. But the fact stood that making his confession had been much easier in the dark than it would have been this morning. From this angle his golden brown eyes were dark and his hair fell in loose curves across his forehead. The full weight of his attention was on Liam now, and it made him stammer. 

“Shouldn't we- talk about- things?” Liam asked, trying to regain his baring. 

“Sure,” Zayn replied easily. “What things?”

“Like what exactly... are we- doing? Here?” Liam asked, articulately. Last night he'd told Zayn he loved him and it had been so easy to climb into his bed. This morning all his doubts were coming back. Every _what if_ and _what about..._

“D'you mean, in a general sense,” said Zayn slowly. “Or more specifically a minute ago when I was about to put my hand on your dick...?” 

“I meant in general,” Liam rolled his eyes and Zayn smirked at him. 

“D'you feel differently than you did last night?” Zayn was lying on his right side propped up on one elbow so he could look down into Liam's face. He raised an eyebrow a little, perhaps trying to keep his query light. But his voice was serious. 

“No!” said Liam. “But- but...” He floundered. His feelings for Zayn hadn't cooled- rather the opposite. Knowing that Zayn wanted him as well... lit his imagination like a spark thrown into a dry field. It spurred fantasies he'd never given himself permission to have before. But there were reasons he hadn't acted on this for so long. It had always seemed like such a bad idea. Their friendship was so _good-_ what if moving on to more than friendship ruined everything? What if sex, specifically, ruined everything? Liam had had sex. He'd had relationships. But not- very much of either. Zayn definitely had more experience. Liam knew, though, that sex changed things. And once changed- you couldn't go back. He wanted it. He wanted Zayn. But he was afraid. 

“But,” Zayn prompted. 

“Is it a good idea?” Liam asked, trusting that Zayn would know what he was talking about. 

“Why wouldn't it be?” Zayn wanted to know. He had left a hand on Liam's hip when he'd rolled over, and was now tracing dreamy little circles against Liam's side. It was _very_ distracting. 

“What if it doesn't work out?” Liam asked. His voice came out shakier and more plaintive than he'd expected. He felt rather pathetic right now, actually- he was lying in bed with the boy he'd been crushing on for months and all he could do was worry. Which was ridiculous, because it was _Zayn,_ who knew him probably better than anyone. Liam wished he could be more confident and assertive, but all he could be was himself. 

The thing was, all relationships ended in breakups until the one that lasted forever, and forever was too vast to even consider. Liam could hardly plan past the end of next week- he still had finals he needed to finish, for christ's sake. But with forever off the table what he was left with was the other, more likely, option- that whatever he started with Zayn would come to an end sooner or later. Liam was paralyzed by the thought that the bright beginning of this day already carried the seeds of an inevitable ending. Because breaking up with Zayn was something Liam didn't even want to think about. The loss of Zayn would be- unacceptable. Fear of that loss had kept him silent for months- silent past the time when he'd thought it too late to speak. 

“What're'ya after, Liam,” a smile was pulling on Zayn's mouth and one of his eyebrows had gone up. “A promise that- like- if we got together and broke up that we'd still be friends?” 

“Maybe?” squeaked Liam. Actually, that was exactly what he wanted. But how on earth could anyone commit to that? It was impossible. 

“I promise,” said Zayn. 

_But-!_ was all Liam had time to think, because a second later Zayn had pushed the covers half off both of them and rolled on top of Liam. His movement was so sudden it almost sent him right over Liam and off the bed- Liam reacted instinctively. His arms came up to catch hold of Zayn, to keep him close, to keep him safe. Zayn apparently thought the issue was settled because he smiled brilliantly at Liam and leaned down to kiss him. Liam's entire attention was taken up by Zayn's thumbs pressed against his cheeks- Zayn's stubble brushing against his own- Zayn's lips against his lips. It sent heat all through his body and he slide his hands without thought under Zayn's shirt and across his back- until the hem snagged on his fucking cast- god he had to get that thing off. Something to worry about later. It wasn't important- nothing was important- because Zayn was grinding his hips down and it was so good- better than last night. 

“Been waiting for you,” Zayn whispered. He was running his nose across Liam's cheek and his lips across Liam's jaw. He was tracing the curl of Liam's ear with his tongue, sucking at his earlobe until Liam's heart was pounding. 

“I was- waiting too-” Liam tried to say. “Cause I didn't think- er- was worried-” 

Zayn had Liam's earlobe between his teeth- suddenly he bit down and Liam's train of thought was lost completely.

“No, Liam,” Zayn said against the side of his face. “Mean I've been _waiting.”_ He thrust his hips down. 

_“God,_ Zayn,” Liam gasped. God he wanted this- he'd wanted it last night- wanted it as he'd watched Zayn in the show- wanted it for months. His worries were crumbling away like sand- the rush and the heat were washing them away. His blood was rising like the tide pulled by the moon. There was still time to stop this but only just. 

“Are you sure?” Liam asked, breathless. One last time. 

“M'sure,” Zayn was nudging Liam's legs apart with his knees so he could fit more easily between them. Liam let his hand come up to Zayn's face- to press his one free palm to Zayn's cheek- run his thumb across Zayn's lips. 

“M'fucking certain,” Zayn muttered, half laughing, and he licked Liam's thumb. His eyes locked on Liam's. Very deliberately he tilted his chin to reach Liam's hand and suck Liam's fingers into his mouth. He worked at them, swallowing and licking, running his tongue around. His suggestion was extremely clear, and it hit Liam like an electric shock. He was half hard already and he knew Zayn could feel it- he was lying on top of Liam and slowly grinding their hips together for fuck's sake-- 

Zayn let Liam's wet fingers slip from his mouth. “Want to get you off,” he murmured. Eyes dark- depths that Liam might drown in. 

“Please say yes,” he whispered, voice rougher and needier than Liam had ever heard. “Liam, Liam...” 

“Yes,” said Liam, “Yes, fuck, yes.” He could feel a smile on his face though he was already a little weak around the edges. Was Zayn begging...? Liam had never been begged of anything before. Zayn made a little growling noise in the back of his throat and in one motion scooted down and pushed up Liam's shirt. Zayn kissed the center of Liam's chest before running his tongue, cat-like, across a nipple. Two more licks and Liam was squirming. When Zayn caught the nipple between his teeth Liam's hips jerked up. He was pressed against Zayn's rip cage and he could feel Zayn's every breath. Zayn was moving down, leaving a line of kisses along Liam's belly. Liam tried to keep his eyes open- he wanted to watch. The most beautiful man Liam had even known was working his way down towards his cock. But Zayn hadn't even reached his waistband yet and Liam was already melting. He could hardly focus on seeing and feeling at the same time.

“Zayn...” Liam didn't even know what he wanted to say. _Less? More? God, you're the hottest thing I've ever seen?_

“Shh,” said Zayn. He cast a look upward to Liam through his fringe. “Got you.” He sat up a little, climbed out from between Liam's spread legs so he could tug his pajamas down. 

“Let me-” Liam tried to sit up to help but Zayn pinned him down with a look. 

“Hush,” said Zayn. “I've got you.” He pulled Liam's pajamas off, and then took his own shirt off for good measure. Liam was down to briefs and Zayn was down to boxers. Liam had seen him in as little before but not under- these circumstances. He wanted to look and look at him forever. But he also wanted Zayn back on top of him as quickly as possible, and that seemed more urgent just now. 

“Think too much, sometimes, Liam,” murmured Zayn and he laid a hand on Liam's dick _at last._ Stroked him through the fabric. Now Liam did have to close his eyes for a minute and just breathe. When he peeked one eye open Zayn was watching him with an immensely smug expression on his face. 

“Just watch,” said Zayn. He leaned down to mouth at Liam though the fabric for a moment before pulling the briefs down his thighs. Liam could tell he wasn't going to last long at all. His dick was right next to Zayn's face and just the sight of it was practically enough to do him in. 

***

The first thing Zayn had noticed about Liam was his voice. In the sea of California accents, filled with _hellas_ and _dudes,_ Liam's voice had called to him of England and home. He'd learned Liam's name on the first day of class when all the dancers from both grades at Directions, and all four grades of academic/dance program, had sat in a ragged circle in the largest dance studio and gone around to introduce themselves and say where they were from. They seemed to do a lot of things while sitting in circles at this school. Maybe it was a California thing. Zayn stopped even trying to remember names before they were half away though, turning his attention instead to the reflections of sky and skyline he could see in the big mirrors. But he had heard Liam's voice and remembered him. 

Harry had asked him what he thought of their classmates that night at dinner. It was only their third day in the rented apartment and they were still figuring out the rhythms- who liked to shower first in the mornings, whether they were going to wash dishes after every meal or just leave them, how much they were going to share food and so on. 

“So what do you _think?”_ Harry had asked enthusiastically. Zayn didn't know how he managed to have this much energy left after such a long day. “Which ones seem gay and interesting??” 

Honestly, the only people who'd really stuck in Zayn's mind were Liam and the really chatty blond Irish guy, but he hadn't caught that guy's name. 

“I don't know about gay,” Zayn had said, frowning, “But at least one of the other guys is British.”

“Are you thinking of who I'm thinking of,” Harry had asked, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Dunno,” said Zayn. “Who are you thinking of?” 

_“Delicious_ man. Blue eyes you could see from across the room,” Harry had bit his lip in an exaggerated fashion, deliberately intended to cause Zayn to roll his eyes. Zayn had always thought he came off as pretty gay, but Harry was something else. He'd gone into classes that day wearing some kind of rose-pink tunic for a shirt. Zayn understood the value of first impressions- he'd dressed quite carefully that morning himself- but seriously. Not one would have mistaken Harry for straight even in the bro-est of workout clothes. 

“Didn't notice him,” Zayn had replied. 

“He looks a bit older but he's in our year. He's from _Doncaster,”_ Harry had added, as if that were a selling point. (It wasn't.)

“If you say so,” Zayn had said. “The guy I meant was a second year- in the academic program. Liam Payne.” 

“Oooo, an upperclassman, good choice,” said Harry. 

“Didn't mean it like _that,”_ said Zayn, though he kind of had. Liam Payne had a year of dancing under his skin already- he was fit in a way most of their year wasn't yet. You could see in his shoulders especially. Zayn stood up, pushing his stool away from the island in their still-clean kitchen. 

“I'm gonna try to skype home?” Zayn had said. “Be in my room...” Harry had waved him away magnanimously. 

***

Zayn had been on Skype a lot those first few weeks. He hadn't anticipated how hard it would be. The seven hours difference left him with a period of usable time to call home between midnight and 7am on weekdays or 2am to 2pm on weekends. Homesickness wasn't a thing he'd ever known before- this was the first time he'd ever been away. He'd teased his sisters that he was glad to be getting away from them, but that had been an outright lie. 

Harry ended up being an unexpectedly excellent asset. He had contacted Zayn completely out of the blue through the first year Directions Facebook group a month before the fall semester with a message that read essentially “Hi, I'm Harry, we've never met but you look cool, how to do fancy sharing an apartment?” Harry had already found a place a couple of miles away from the school and was willing to arrange everything if Zayn was willing to pay half the rent. Harry's arguments in favor of this living arrangement were, firstly, that if they bought all their own groceries and did their own cooking it would actually be a little cheaper then staying in the dorms with a meal plan, and secondly, that he wanted his own room so that he could have sex. Zayn had wanted his own room as well, but mainly so he could have a door to close against the world. Everything here was new. New teachers, new classes, new peers. Dollars instead of pounds, miles instead of kilometers, looking left instead of right before you crossed the street and that taste in the air- the constant taste of the city mixed with the sea. It was new and it was cool and it was exciting. But it was also exhausting. He desperately needed at least a small piece of his own space. Somewhere to go to leave it all behind. With the door closed, he could let down his guard. With no one watching, he could be himself. 

Things actually got easier as school got harder. Things were easier when he came home tired in the evenings, when he had classes and rehearsals and homework to think about, when he and Harry started going to the gym or the studio or yoga on the weekends. It was easier when he had a good piece of choreography to think about, when classmate drama started spilling into daily life. It was easier when he was distracted and enjoying himself. But even after the apartment started to feel lived in- even on nights when he and Harry stumbled in, kicked their shoes off in the hall, bickered over whose music to turn on while they ate leftovers off unmatched plates at the kitchen island, after they had collapsed on the couch and found something good on Netflix- even then, as comfortable as he was, Zayn never forgot that he was five thousand miles from home. And he would find himself wondering _what am I doing here?_

***

In year eleven at his performing arts-focused high school Zayn's class had spent seven weeks on _Hamlet._ Everyone had had to memorize the most famous soliloquy and at least one other monologue or scene. Zayn didn't mind; he liked being on the stage. He'd chosen the Player King's main speech for his second piece, but the line that really stayed with him from the play wasn't _Purpose is the slave to memory,_ or even _To be or not to be- that is the question._ It was a line from one of Hamlet's scenes shortly before the onset of Ophelia's madness. After insulting nearly every aspect of his former lover's character and appearance Hamlet shouts “God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another!” 

A weird line. Zayn had written it in ballpoint pen along the back cover of his notebook. _God hath given you one face and you make yourselves another._ He liked the plural in the second half of the phrase- as if by the simple act of painting her face Ophelia had created a whole new persona, a new identity distinctly separate from herself, and was now two people. It had kind of a comic book feel. Wasn't that what nearly every superhero did? Create for themselves another face, a mask, a second identity? Should Superman properly be considered two people and referenced to as such? This was not a question Zayn brought up in class. But it was something he pondered over, daydreaming from his seat at the back of the room. 

Zayn's attraction to the idea of a secret identity was very strong and the reasons for it so Fruedianly obvious as to hardly be worth mentioning. He'd gone through over a decade of British schooling as part of an un-hidable minority. His name stood out like a red flag on every student list he'd ever been on and then there was his face; he could usually count on at least a week of being stared at at the beginning of every new term. He could have tried to keep a low profile, smile like a good boy and fit in, but that was not his way. Pierced ears, the bleached streak in his fringe, tattoos- these were rebellions against himself as much as they were against the world. They were his small but furious statements- _If they're going to look at me, I've give them something to see._ He had never, not once in his entire life, been able to blend in to the crowd- so why waste a fucking minute trying? Just put on a mask in public and keep your secrets close. He could do it, and after a while he even got good at it. But it was exhausting. A superpower would have been a huge bonus- preferably shape shifting. 

Acting and dancing were as close as he could get. Performing gave him both permission and an excuse to be someone else for a while. Back to Ophelia- it was the closest he could come to putting on another face. And it let him control the type of spotlight he was standing in, if only for a little while. 

***

A month into the first fall semester at Directions- Harry and Louis were already shagging their brains out and Zayn was starting to seriously question his motives when it came to Liam. Had his attraction for Liam grown entirely out of his reassuring, familiar Englishness? Was a longing for reminders of home a valid reason to like someone? Or was all of the constant, unending sexual tension floating around in the apartment (now that Louis was staying over half the time) just rubbing off on him? Sometimes he wondered if he was just getting horny by osmosis and Liam was the best closely available gay option. He'd lie at night with a pillow over his head to block out the muffled sex noises coming from across the hall and worry that he only wanted Liam because he was lonely. 

But no. It was more than that. Because no matter how wretched his day was going, seeing Liam always improved it. Liam was a calm and cheerful constant in the whirlwind of Zayn's semester. Wherever he was was the eye of the storm, the quiet place were Zayn would breath for a minute and rest. The few classes he had with Liam became his favorite classes. Somehow, without his even noticing it, Liam became the person he thought about first in the morning and texted with last at night. Liam never demanded more of Zayn than he was willing to give. He never made Zayn feel guilty for his silent days. Zayn had never had a friend who asked for so little- which, conversely, made him want to offer more. He found himself telling Liam things he'd never told to anyone. Things he'd thought (as the only half-Pakistani, gay, Muslim theater kid in his class, and probably the entire school) that he might never say out loud. Harry, Niall and Louis had fitted into Zayn's life like the last missing pieces of a puzzle. But it was Liam who had become his best friend. The realization, when it came, was shocking. Not the realization that he liked Liam as more than a friend- rather the realization that he liked Liam's company just as much as he liked solitude. 

Plus- Liam had this little birthmark, just above the hollow of his throat. Zayn had noticed it the very first time he'd seen Liam in a tank top and had become enamored of it instantly. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to wrap one hand behind Liam's neck, tip his head back and suck a hickey right over that mark. Liam had gorgeous lips, actually, once you stopped to look at them. But it was his neck, and by extension his collarbones and shoulders, that Zayn found himself thinking about with astonishing regularity. There was just something about him- half solid, half soft- that made Zayn want to sink his teeth in somewhere. Sometimes he wanted to sneak up behind Liam and bite him- just hard enough to make him sit up straight and notice. Though Zayn would have been the first to argue that Liam possessed many fine qualities- noticing hints was not among them. They weren't even subtle hints. Zayn thought he'd pretty much thrown all his cards down on the table at Halloween, but Liam hadn't followed up on that. It was true that Liam didn't exactly- move quickly. He was thorough and patient and careful. Not slow, just deliberate and methodical. And usually distracted and stressed, what with the double major and his commute. 

And then the shit had gone down with Harry and Louis. Zayn had been on full-time damage control for the first three months of the spring semester. Louis Tomlinson had disappeared as if from the face of the earth and it had shaken all of them to the core, but Harry most of all. Denial had lasted about two weeks followed by a solid week of rage. The bargaining stage had mainly consisted of pleading with the registrar for information. Depression had run from late February through March. Zayn had gotten used to sleeping through a certain amount of noise, but there had been one night. One night when he hadn't had his door closed all the way, or maybe Harry hadn't, or perhaps both. One night when the sound of furious and hopeless tears had pulled him all the way out of a deep pit of sleep. Zayn had debated with himself as they went on and on. If it had been him, he'd have wanted to be left alone. But it was Harry, so eventually he got up out of bed and padded silently across the hall. At first he'd just perched on the side of the bed and murmured Harry's name questioningly, but when Harry curled towards him and reached for his hand and he'd gotten in. Harry had buried his face in Zayn's shoulder until his shirt was wet. Zayn had not known what to comfort him with. _You still have me? You still have Liam?_ Not the same. And they hardly had Liam anymore. He'd dropped all of his dance classes after the broken arm and only made it into the city on weekends if at all. If not for the promise that he'd be back with them in the fall, Zayn would have missed him more than Louis. Not that he could say that to Harry. Or even to Liam. There was no one, really, that Zayn could say that to- so he held it, a quiet small sadness of his own. It took up residence beside his homesickness. Two gray birds nested inside his chest. 

Zayn had not known what to say that night, feeling the rustling gray wings of his own sorrows, as Harry cried until he ran out of tears. He had simply kept one arm around him until they both fell asleep at last, and hoped that that would be enough. Harry had said a quiet _thank you_ in the morning, but that was all. The next day he'd turned the corner into acceptance. He'd given up on Louis. He started to move on. 

Zayn wondering increasingly if he should give up on Liam. Not on being friends with him but on ever being more. Liam seemed to be drawing away. There was something on his mind that he wasn't sharing. Something that put a line of worry across his forehead when he thought no one was watching. He had a secret, or a fear, and he was keeping it from Zayn. When it had come out at dinner the night before that Niall wasn't coming back to Directions in the fall, Zayn had felt keenly how much he would miss him. But when Liam had said he wasn't coming back either he had felt it like the sharp stab of a needle into his heart. Liam, leaving. Niall, leaving. Louis- uncertain. Harry was still a mess. Zayn felt like he was standing on a crumbling shelf of ice- the ground falling away on every side- a shrinking glacier in a hostile sea. Too late to save anything, really. He loved Harry, he really did, but he couldn't spend any more time looking after him, not if Liam wasn't there to help. Might be time to cut his loses and go home. 

But roughly nine hours ago the door of his bedroom had been pushed open, and Liam had stepped in uncertainly. Now it was morning and here he still was in Zayn's bed, melting under Zayn's touch like butter in the sun. His hands were fists in the sheets and his chest was heaving and ever now and then he gasped out Zayn's name and well- that rather changed things, didn't it? 

***

It wasn't until he followed Zayn out of the bedroom that Liam realized he was... following Zayn out of his bedroom... but by that point Zayn was already into the hall and it was rather too late to consider being secretive. 

The kitchen smelled enticingly of coffee and eggs. Harry was sitting on one of the stools, still wrapped in a sleeping bag and holding a mug between his hands. Louis was at the stove which was-unexpected. He caught Liam's eye and something like a smirk crossed his face. But he also held out a cup of black coffee, and anyway Liam was in a really fantastic mood right now, so he didn't hold it against him. Harry's eyebrows, which had been tugged down at the corners, went right up.

“Well, well,” said Harry. “Another country heard from.” 

“Good morning,” Liam replied. He couldn't stop himself from smiling. 

“Yeah, morning,” said Zayn, wandering over to the fridge, the picture of ease. He'd pulled on his boxers and a loose t-shirt with the Directions Dance studio logo across the back before they'd left the room. He looked exactly the same as always but Liam couldn't stop looking at him. Because now he knew what Zayn looked like naked. What his lips looked like curled around Liam's erection and how his cheeks went hallow as he sucked it into his mouth. How his eyes had closed as his tongue played across the tip... Liam could feel his face heating up again just thinking about it. 

“Have we got any milk?” Zayn asked. 

“No,” said Harry and Louis, roughly at the same time, which made Harry frown again. 

“I looked, sorry,” said Louis, a bit sheepishly. 

“Thought we'd get groceries today, we've got time before the show,” Harry said to Zayn. 

“Uuuughh,” Zayn grumbled. “What time have we got to be there?” 

“Three,” said Harry. 

It was all so normal. Like any morning last semester. Which was actually completely bizarre, given how much had happened in the past twenty four hours. This time yesterday all he'd been thinking about was getting his world history paper done and turned in before dinner so he could get to the airport on time to get Niall. And now here was Louis, standing in this kitchen. And there was Zayn, talking with Harry about rehearsals, while Liam simmered in the memory his tongue... He was buzzing, he hardly knew what to do with himself. Coffee was the last thing in the world that he needed, but he took a few sips anyway, just for something to do with his hands. How could Zayn be so relaxed. Did he want to pretend that nothing had happened in front of the others? Liam leaned against the kitchen island, sure that his every thought was written across his face as if in sharpie. Why hadn't they talked about this before leaving the bedroom?? They'd just smelled food and gotten up without planning anything! Louis was saying something, something about his work schedule- saying he wanted to come see the whole show tonight but needed to trade shifts with someone, something like that. Liam ignored him as he tried to send Zayn some silent message with his eyebrows. An sos, help me out here, type of message. Zayn gave him a little uh-huh nod and Liam relaxed because Zayn seemed to have understood him. But a minute later it became apparent that Zayn had received some other message entirely because after he came around the counter he nudged Liam back onto a stool and then half-perched himself on Liam like that was perfectly normal. Was this a thing that happened now?? Zayn had sort of just sat astride one of Liam's knees and his weight wasn't very well balanced and it was a bit awkward, actually. Plus Harry was giving them a sideways look, like a pleased cat. Liam tentatively put a hand on Zayn's side to steady him, not quite sure what he thought about this. But then Zayn half turned and murmured quietly, so only Liam could hear, “I've got'ta take a shower before we leave, d'ya wanna join me later...?” And Liam decided instantly that Zayn sitting on his lap was a fantastic idea and tightened his arm around Zayn's waist to keep him there. 

That's how they were sitting when Niall finally stumbled out of Harry's room and the look on his face as he surveyed the kitchen was _priceless._

***

“So,” Niall said brightly, after he had polished off the very last of the remaining edible food in the apartment. “What are all you lads doing this summer?” 

They looked around at each other across the kitchen island. Harry had shed his sleeping bag and Louis had turned off the stove.

“Just going back home for the break,” said Liam. 

“Right, so you'll be in England, good,” said Niall. He looked at Harry and Louis. 

“Staying here, working,” said Louis. 

“I'll be in LA,” said Harry. 

“Eh, no good,” Niall waved their answers away with annoyance. 

“Oi,” said Harry, affronted. “I'm going to be working my ass off dancing all summer-!” 

“No good for me plans,” Niall amended. 

“What're your plans...?” Liam asked. 

Niall ignored the question. “Where'll you be at, Zee?” 

“Home,” said Zayn simply. “Why?” He'd had to get up off Liam after only few minutes because it really hadn't been an ergonomically sustainable sitting position. But he was still standing just beside Liam so that their elbows touched. 

“Excellent,” Niall beamed. “You two,” he pointed at Liam and Zayn, “Two you should come to Ireland for my tour!” 

“Your what?” asked Liam. 

“Me and Ed! We're doing a tour this summer, in Ireland. We've got like ta whole thing planned out, gonna drive a loop from Dublin up to Belfast, Doolin, Dingle, Killarney, back to Dublin,” Niall explained excitedly. “We've got eight or ten gigs lined up already, little clubs, bars, things like that. And we'll be doing some recording at one stop in the middle. Want to get a good demo with our newer stuff cause it's really good. What'd'ya think? Want ta come?” 

“AWWW, I wanna go!” said Harry. 

“Too bad you have ta dance all summer, poor you,” Niall said airily. Harry threw a napkin at him and Louis snorted. 

“How long of a trip?” Zayn asked. “I like- really need to see my family, you know...” 

“Two weeks, max,” said Niall. “Mini-vacation! It'll be awesome. Come one, Li, ya have to come!” 

Liam hadn't even started to think about the summer yet. Two more finals to get through and all that. Going to Ireland? He'd have to check in with his parents, and figure out the dates, and where they'd be staying. Hotels, hostels? It was already mid-May- booking places now would likely be pretty expensive, wouldn't it? Also, when Niall said _We've got eight or ten gigs lined up_ did that mean they had ten actual stops, or was it more like five...? It was so last minute.

Zayn turned his head to look at Liam. 

“What are you thinking?” Liam asked, pretty sure that Zayn was out. 

“Wellll,” said Zayn. “It sounds pretty cool.” 

“It'll be _so cool,”_ Niall interjected. 

“Yeah?” Liam frowned, trying to read Zayn's expression. 

“Yeah, ya'know,” said Zayn. “We could- see each other, someplace that's not- either of our parents houses...” 

“Ah,” said Liam. “Right!” 

“Plus get to hear some really good music for free!” Niall said enthusiastically. 

“Don't think that's the main attraction,” Harry laughed. Liam knew he'd been watching them ever since they'd come into the kitchen, and also knew that Harry could read him like a book. And Louis- he was smiling too. But Liam ignored them both. 

“I'll go, if you're going,” he said to Zayn. 

“Yeah,” said Zayn, a smile slowly lighting up his face. “Yeah, I think we should.”

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story in early March, and the first half or so was done before March 25th. Then March 25th happened. I had to take some time off to figure out what I really wanted to say in this story. Zayn leaving did influence the writing (how could it not?) but in the end I stuck with the plot line I already had planned. Because this is an AU and these are not real people- these are caricatures based on head canons and my own whimsy. So I shall continue to write whatever I want! 
> 
> I run a [tumblr](http://akikotree.tumblr.com/) for inspirations and updates for this fic- one of the things I posted there a while back was a [floorplan ](http://akikotree.tumblr.com/post/105248037501/i-designed-a-floor-plan-for-harry-and-zayns) of Harry and Zayn's apartment. Check that out if you are interested. 
> 
> As always, I'd like to thank [mybeanieandme](http://mybeanieandme.tumblr.com/) for being an excellent beta, for being a co-conspirator in this universe and for everything. Part 9 is one we're written together and it's almost done. That will be a Hazlou story, and this Ziam narrative will be continued in part 10 :)


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